


only whales sing under water

by babydeathclaw



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Post-Dishonored 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8862364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydeathclaw/pseuds/babydeathclaw
Summary: Corvo struggles with growing older and more tired as Emily learns to face what it means to be an Empress on her own terms. The Royal Protector deals with the equally troublesome old enemies and old friends. The Outsider wants something, probably.





	1. coping

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another one-shot that got away from me. Let's chase this whale. 
> 
> This contains spoilers for Dishonored 2, especially Emily's Low Chaos playthrough. It probably won't make a whole lot of sense if you haven't played the second game. 
> 
> Rating and tags subject to change as we go. I'm crossing my fingers for some smut here, but there isn't any yet so the rating is gen for now.

Corvo Attano was a man of silence, and for that reason, he hated audiograph players viciously.

Maybe he just didn’t see the appeal. It had been interesting and even vital to listen to Treavor Pendleton’s drunken ramblings or Farley Havelock’s quiet inner thoughts. But still he couldn’t help but feel like it was unnecessarily self-important; saying everything out loud for no one, as if that were to help anything.

He made exceptions, of course, for Samuel Beechworth. Something drove the old man to drag an audiograph under the overturned boat where he slept and keep his private thoughts there. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe it was the only way he could deal with his part in the Loyalists’ conspiracy and all that became of it. Corvo couldn’t bring himself to judge, and even felt guilty for crouching in the mud and listening to what Samuel had told no one.

Maybe it was the boatman’s riverside earnestness that helped him haul the massive, unused audiograph from storage all the way up to the Royal Protector’s office and plunk it in the corner. He hoped that if he pulled the drapes just enough he could mostly mask it from view; as if it were something to be ashamed of.

Corvo turned the little used desk-chair around and sat in it, facing the machine. Brutally mechanical, dusty yet pristine, it sat smart and taunting. This belonged in someone else’s office, listening to someone else’s words – but he didn’t know what else to do.

The room was dark, with the window half-covered in drapes, leaving in only the slightest bit of light coming into illuminate his new companion. He pulled a fresh recording sheet out from its sleeve, fumbling with the top a bit to try and get it in. The sheet ripped, and he swore.

After a quick examination, it turned out there was a release he hadn’t noticed, and he had to undo it to slide the sheet in. He took another one out from the sleeve, and it went in easily.

Corvo let out his breath.

He glanced at the window, briefly considering closing the blinds, and doing this the hard way in complete darkness – no. No, he had to be honest, if only a little bit.

He pressed record. The paper jerked in the machine. He took a deep breath, and found he had no words. The machine clicked away, eating at his time – he watched it swallow the paper, inch by inch, ticking past the minutes.

He sat there for the full five minutes, barely breathing, as if it was just waiting to hear him sigh and gobble up his words. The machine clicked off, and the paper spit back out, barely a dent in it.

Corvo sighed, and let his head slump forward onto his chest.

\--

 

“Did she ever talk about me?”

Corvo brought Emily’s bandaged hand up to his face, kissing it protectively. He didn’t want to look her in the face; to see her brow creased with concern, to be amazed at how much she’d aged in a few short months, to see her hardened and the world bettered for it.

Emily gently pulled her left hand out from his reach. She let her right one rest on the hilt of her – on Corvo’s – on her sword, which sat at her hip, retracted and deadly, like a waiting cat.

“Mother?”

“Yes.”

He felt like the practice dummies were watching him. They leered almost comically; stupid, painted-on faces Emily had insisted on doing, their eyes and mouths too realistic for the burlap sacks that made their heads. ‘I never get to draw anymore,’ she’d insisted, and Corvo knew this was her way of getting back at him for telling her not to doodle during meetings.

Emily slumped against the dumpster; the same one he’d hid behind all those years ago, playing hide and seek with a little girl he didn’t know anymore. A gull screamed from the top of the boathouse.

“It wasn’t always… talking,” Emily said, looking past him into the dark corners of the alley. “Sometimes it was more of a feeling, like you just…”

“Knew?” He said softly. Emily nodded. Corvo closed his eyes, his hand curling around an invisible heart at his side. The last time he’d ever held her. He tried to remember. It had been so long.

“He gave you mother too, didn’t he?” Emily asked.

Corvo snorted. “Smart girl.”

“Why did he do that?”

“Same reason he gave her to you, I suppose. To guide me.”

“She told me she wouldn’t guide me,” Emily replied in a low voice. “She said she wanted… to be lost. For a while. With me.”

Corvo closed his eyes, rubbing them hard enough to see stars.

“Yeah, that was probably… my fault.”

Emily laughed. It was her voice that set her apart the most from Jessamine, now – because with her hair up and her dark eyes, she was so much like her mother, just as smart, just as deadly, just as much of a dreamer. And he’d gone and tainted that with his swords and rats and everything, like a plague to the both of them.

No, Emily had her own laugh; bold and brave and defiant. She could sing, but nothing like Jessamine. Had Jessamine died too young for Emily to remember? Had the Heart sounded foreign to her ears? Had she forgotten her mother’s voice?

The thought made his head hurt. He stumbled back against the wall, the dull practice sword he was holding clattering to the ground. He dug his fingers against his eyelids, trying to bring back the face and dull growl of the assassin he’d faced so long ago.

Strange how memory warps things, how even though he knew Daud had killed Jessamine himself, he would constantly revisit the scene in his head. Over and over, trying to remember as the years warped that afternoon in the garden, wondering what he could’ve done to save her. Maybe he wasn’t as pinned as he’d thought. He’d taken more than three men before. He could’ve done it. Could’ve saved her.

“Corvo?”

Emily all but ripped his hands away from his face. Corvo slumped against the wall, all of his strength gone to his legs to keep him upright.

Corvo let out a nervous laugh.

“You’ve gotten strong, you know that, Emily?”

Emily didn’t laugh. She pulled him up by the arm, and hugged him tightly to her chest, one hand wrapped around his waist to keep him standing. The other was on the back of his head, cupping it like he was a child.

“I’m taking you inside,” Emily said. “You’re not-“

“Not well?”

“You haven’t been the same since she – “

“This isn’t because of what Delilah did to me. I’m fine.” Corvo put his hands on her shoulders, righted himself. He looked past Emily, into the dark corners of the yard, hating how she looked at him like he was old and frail. Maybe he’d been getting old and frail, all this time, and now that the black-eyed bastard had another world-shaker to keep his eye on, he didn’t have the void to keep him standing.

“You’re not fine. You look so tired, all the time, I was never stronger – “

“You spent all that time in Karnaca. You saw the void. You got stronger.”

“You think that the void means I’m stronger than you?” Emily replied in disbelief. Corvo pulled away.

“Emily, she took from me the only edge I had.” He raised his left fist, dark and scarred but free of any mark. “I’m just and old swordsman now.”

“You’re my Royal Protector. You’re my _father_.”

“And I lost everything, all over again,” Corvo said delicately. He was still staring at his hand, cupping it. Emily followed his eyes.

“I thought you hated him. I never knew, but you always talked about the Outsider with- “ she stopped, watching his fingers take shape. “This isn’t about the void, is it? You don’t give a rat’s infested ass about that place. You try to burn the bone charms you don’t want. This is because you lost her all over again, isn’t it?” Emily stepped back, and looked him up and down, as if judging where to hit him the hardest. “Because you couldn’t protect me and lost her all over because of it.”

Outsider’s eyes, had Serkonos done this to her? Or was she just that much like Jessamine? These damn Kaldwins. They were going to kill him.

“Emily…” What in the void was he going to say to that?

Somewhere above them, the wind whistled through the garden, sounding too much like sad laughter. Corvo bent down quietly and picked up the practice sword, holding it loosely in his hand.

“I should go.”

“Corvo – “

“Emily, _please_.” He hated to sound this desperate; to beg, to ask for forgiveness, or mercy. Not of Emily. She deserved to hold him up to higher standards than that.

She made as if to step toward him, to stop him. But then she stopped herself.

“Give me your sword,” she said.

Their eyes met. She reached out, palm extended, her voice gentle but firm. It was almost too easy to obey.

He took the sword by the blade and held it out. She took it from him, waiting for him to let go before she pulled it away.

“Thank you, Corvo,” she whispered. He took in a big, deep breath, as if he were about to plunge into the ocean, and turned away.

The lights of Dunwall Tower blinked, beckoning him on, and his footsteps were alone on the gravel path as he started the long trek home.

\--

Corvo Attano had once been Karnaca’s best swordsman. He knew that he fought with his body and not his tongue, his brain working more to judge the distance between buildings or blades than to slice through the air with words. His silence was a weapon; stealthy, silent, with only a few guessing the face he wore behind the mask.

But even still, he’d started by practicing clumsily hitting straw dummies with a stick. Even blinking had been a learning curve; one he had to take on very suddenly, granted, but by the end of the Loyalists’ turbulent time in his life, it was like second nature. He almost felt naked without it, now.

Swords had come naturally, though, and this would be harder. But what good was he, as Royal Protector, if he couldn’t face a challenge?

He drew the curtains back fully, this time, letting the moonlight burst through his window and glare like a spotlight across the Wrenhaven. Corvo took in a deep, shuddering breath, and pushed open the window.

The cold air hit him like a slap to the face, and only briefly did he wish he could climb out the window and run across the roofs like he used to – but no, that was Emily’s domain now. Not out of a need to escape, but out of a need to be the empress her people needed.

He left the window, and sat back in front of the audiograph.

It didn’t look any less intimidating this time around. But maybe it felt better to be facing it with a wounded pride – like anything the machine could do to him, it wasn’t any worse than what had already happened.

It was like being back under the executioner’s knife. He still felt an anger, a deep betrayal by what this machine was asking of him – but what did it matter? He’d lost something, hadn’t he? What was one more concession? One more defeat?

His whole body strained with a deep exhaustion, but he leaned forward, sliding another sheet into the machine. His fingers hovered over the switch, and he inhaled slowly.

“Oh, Jessamine,” he said softly. Then he turned the machine on.

A few seconds of whirring and silence. Then,

“I can’t believe I lost you again.

I was even more useless, this time… she took my power, as if she were the god who gave it, and it was up to Emily to pick up the pieces when I couldn’t. How long did I sleep for? Could you feel me? Could I feel you?”

He coughed. The room seemed to shake with his breath.

“I think it kept me going, knowing that you were out there – knowing that every time I tightened my grip and used to void to land myself halfway across the room, somewhere, between the place I was leaving and where I was going, you would be there.

Maybe he’s a cruel bastard for giving you back to me, trapped in your own flesh; a guiding light that only served to hurt you. I knew you were hurting, but I wasn’t sure how much. I needed you while you were with me, and when he took you back, I figured you were just a part of the void.”

He licked his lips. They’d gone dry.

“Sometimes, I wonder, if I could just touch that darkness again, give myself to the void’s power one last time, if I could see you. Emily – I – I don’t want to ask her. She says you’re gone, for real, this time. Gone, so Emily could take down Delilah and take back all we lost.” He coughed again. “Sometimes I wonder… if I had gone, instead of her, could I have saved you? Could I have learned to bring you back, like they did to Delilah? I want to know. I want to ask Emily what she learned. But I… I don’t want her to know how weak I’ve become.”

“Perhaps, in another version of this story, it was you who sailed to Karnaca and learned what it meant to kill an empress,” the voice seized his heart, and sent him spiralling to a deep, angry place. He’d opened the window earlier, but the room seemed suddenly colder – lonelier – as if there weren’t an entire castle keeping it up. “But this is, after all, Emily’s story. You are just a possibility.”

“ _You_ ,” Corvo breathed. The audiograph had stopped – not clicked off, only stopped, the world around in a dark purple haze, the lamp on the desk shuddering to life. The Outsider sat on the windowsill, blocking the moon.

“Could you have brought Jessamine Kaldwin back the same way desperate and lost men and women brought Delilah back? That’s a tricky thing to answer. What Daud did to Delilah was perhaps less… permanent, than what he did to your Jessamine.”

No one ever called her _his_ Jessamine. The Outsider’s tone danced with his meaning; biting and enticing, almost asking Corvo to push back. It was hard to tell if the god was mocking him or not. It was almost enough to distract him from the mention of Daud’s name. He mouthed the word soundlessly, like a curse, his lips turning it over and over.

Of course. They seemed almost entwined, didn’t they? And from what Emily had told him about her time in Karnaca, it seemed like Daud and his Whalers were destined to follow them wherever they went. They were like wolves, driven by blood-scent to hunt.

“Maybe there is nothing you could’ve done, Corvo, that would’ve changed the world any better for our sweet Emily. And Emily herself would’ve been unchanged for it – Karnaca would never have struck a chord somewhere deep inside of her, and dragged her up from the much to be the empress she now has to be. Wouldn’t that be an even greater tragedy? To go on playing Lord Protector and allow Emily to remain as nothing but a dreaming little girl?”

Corvo lunged at the Outsider, but it was like every step he took dragged him farther away. The Outsider crossed his arms, leaning backwards out the window, the light of the moon catching his hair and illuminating him like a halo.

He hated this. He hated how the Outsider felt always just out of reach, when all he wanted to do was reach out and strangle him. If only he had his power back, if only he could blink up to the god and slap him silly across the face – as if he could even feel it –

But then he saw it. The Outsider’s legs were crossed, his boot pointing into the room, the curl of his foot so close it could almost touch the machine. The audiograph.

Corvo was a swordsman who had lost everything except what he never had to begin with.

“What would you know?” He said, each word falling like a punch. The Outsider stilled, and so did the world. It was as if even the Wrenhaven had stopped. “You – you no one’s father. You’re no one’s son. As if you could make any better choices. As if I haven’t done all I can!” He swung his arm out, grabbing the lamp off the table. The Outsider stared at him with frozen, black eyes. “You think I don’t have to live with that, you bastard?”

He threw the lamp. He didn’t know what he expected. As easily as the void had grabbed the Tower, it let it go – and the lamp went flying out the window, crashing down onto the parapets below. A guard yelled in surprise, dogs barking.

Corvo fell to his knees.

It felt like it took hours for someone to reach him. The guardswoman who pulled him up was young, had maybe only had one or two watches since she’d arrived. Corvo pushed her away, shaking his head.

“Thought I saw something,” he whispered stumbling to his desk. He closed the window.

“Lady Emily – “

“She’ll be fine. She doesn’t have to know,” he said. He watched the woman’s face, saw it twist in worry and agony, wondering how to deal.

He sat down in the chair, and put his head in his hands.

“Go.”

She stood, almost frozen, until he waved her off again. Then she left, as quietly as she could, closing the door softly behind her. Corvo slumped forward onto the desk, and let out a long, low sob.

\--

 _“I miss you, Emily, my dear.”_ Wyman’s voice crackled and floated airily through the room, and out into the hallway where Corvo stood. “ _More than you can imagine. I’ve been dreaming about sitting on the shore next to you, under the sun, learning to just be again. I miss you. I’m ready to come home.”_

Corvo froze outside Emily’s door, hand raised in a half-knock, wondering if she’d heard him approach.

There was no one around; the sharp-dressed guardswoman had just turned the corner, certain, of course, that she didn’t have to worry about the Royal Protector around the Empress.

Corvo crouched in front of the door, peering in the keyhole. From this angle, it looked as if Emily was alone in the room, staring at her own audiograph player. It whirred and the card popped back up, having just played through a recording. Wyman’s voice message.

Emily sat, transfixed, staring at the machine. She reached out and with shaking fingers plucked the recording sheet from it, holding it delicately to her chest as if it carried Wyman’s soul. She bowed her head – the closest he’d ever come to see her cry, even while he was breaking.

Corvo stood abruptly, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. He put his hand firmly on the door knob, ignoring the way the keyhole burned back at him like an eye of its own, watching his violation on his empress’ – his daughter’s – privacy. He turned the handle slowly, giving Emily time to gather herself before he stepped inside.

“Emily,” he said quietly. She stood tall, with an open, empty expression. She tried to discreetly tuck the recording under some papers on her desk.

“Father,” she said, her voice warm but tired. She had rings under her eyes, all the life and emotion he’d watched through the keyhole gone and replaced with duty. It shook him how much she reminded him of Jessamine in that moment – a young woman, trying to be an unwavering leader, embracing nothing but the sweet release of another’s love.

He tried to ignore the way it tugged at his gut that she couldn’t be honest with him. _No. She deserves to be alone with Wyman, if that’s what she wants. You’re her father, and that means you will have to let her go._

“I hope I didn’t interrupt – “

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just reading some letters.” She reached up and tucked some loose hair behind her ear, from where it was falling out from its ties. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

Corvo took a tentative step forward into the room, and when she seemed okay with it, walked over to the desk and sat on the edge of it. Emily seemed to relax as well, and leaned against the arm of her chair, crossing her arms.

“What’s up, Emily?” He asked.

Emily toyed with the ring on her finger, not meeting Corvo’s gaze. She used to do this while daydreaming, and had perfected the ability to look contemplative while doing it. Now, though, she looked distant and tired and – older. So much like Jessamine.

“I’m going back to Karnaca,” she said finally, he hands coming to rest on her lap.

“…Karnaca.” His hometown felt so heavy on his tongue.

“Yes. To speak to our new Duke Abele.” Right. The replacement. “And visit… some old friends,” she paused. “The boat leaves in three days.”

“Three days?” He said, his voice cracking and hoarse. He forced a laugh. “Didn’t give me much time to get things together, did you? I mean, I can still make it work…”

“I’m going with Wyman, father,” Emily said quietly. “You… you don’t need to come. Actually, I think it might be better if you didn’t.”

Corvo’s almost-laugh turned into a cough. He braced his shoulders as if waiting for an impact, but one never came.

“What?”

“I know. You’re my protector. But I made it this far. I’ve gone to Karnaca under worse circumstances, with fewer allies.”

“There are people who will do not like this ‘changed’ duke. They might suspect something, especially after Delilah’s fall. We are still trying to understand how things have changed since–“

“Which is why I have to go. I want to understand for myself. I am not alone anymore, father.” Emily took a deep breath, standing straight as she could. Was she taller than him, or could he just not hold himself straight anymore? “I’m taking Wyman. The new Duke and I going to hold open court, talk to the people. Anton knows we are coming, he has people who can help us.”

“There will be people who still hate the Duke for who he ‘used’ to be.”

“And I understand that, too. There is action that needs to occur, from both of us, before the people of Serkonos can begin to trust in their leaders again.”

Corvo swallowed, once again lost in how his daughter became his empress. What made her? Perhaps it was slower for other parents. Ones who didn’t realize how deeply involved they were until their children saw the world without them. For him it had been sudden, jarring. Emily became something bigger, something deadly. It scared him.

Emily seemed to notice his unease. She sighed, and took his face in her hands, pulling him close so she could kiss his cheek.

“I love you, father,” she said quietly. “Which is why you have to let me do this.”

“…Who will you take for protection?” he asked, his voice a croaking whisper. “Please, do that for me, at least.”

Emily sighed, and pulled him close. Their foreheads touched briefly before she let him go.

“Meagan and some friends are going undercover. They’ll be on the boat with us,” she replied. “And I will also have a Grand Guard detail.”

Corvo nodded, slowly, carefully, trying to make sense in his mind. “That’s good.”

“And Wyman employs their own people.”

“I know they do. Fancy-ass City Watchmen with hagfish guts for brains.” His attempt at being gruff was weak, but it still made Emily smile, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

“Sounds like Corvo’s all better now,” she replied dryly. “Everything’s back to normal.”

The silence that came after hurt, but he forced a smile anyway.

“Okay,” he said, letting out his breath. “I mean, it isn’t. Okay. I’m not… okay with it.” Deep breaths, Corvo. “But I don’t think I can stop you.”

“You can’t,” Emily said simply. “Thank you for staying honest. I hate it when you hide things from me.”

“What, you can have secrets, but I can’t?” He said, then took a step back. “I know. You’re my daughter. That’s your job.” He took a deep breath. “I… I think I’m going to go down to the docks. I need to see someone about a ship.”

Emily gave him a long look. “Corvo –“

“Not your ship,” he said, waving his hand. “Another ship.” Any other ship.

Emily held him in a long, long look, but finally relented. “Alright, go,” she said quietly. “Have your secrets, you insufferable old man.”

For once his laugh was genuine. When he turned and left the room, he made sure it was while he was laughing – he didn’t want to think about her remembering him as whatever weak thing he’d become.


	2. trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwin' out a new chapter like it hasn't been five months since the last one, whoops. I make no promises about the timing of the next one.

Corvo was desperately trying to ignore two things at once: one was Emily’s departure. Though she had already made the journey before, with less friends and under more troubled circumstances, he couldn’t help but feel like a part of him was being shipped across the ocean. This was the first time she was gone somewhere he couldn’t easily reach and he was conscious to be aware of it.

In her childhood, he’d chased her across the worst Dunwall could offer – pulled her from the hands of men stronger and smarter than himself – but no one was asking him to save Emily now.

The second thing he was ignoring was a little less stressful, but irritating nonetheless: the reminder that, even after all this time, the Outsider had been watching.

Though the powers of the void had been close to his heart right up until Delilah had taken them from him, he hadn’t spoken to the floating asshole since he’d saved Emily from Kingsparrow Island. But he’d come back.

Right at Corvo’s most delicate moment, when he was trying to put words to the thoughts that had been plaguing him relentlessly, the Outsider had come back.

He wouldn’t lie. A part of him was bitter.

\--

The worst part about being the Royal Protector was being seen.

In the past, he could’ve taken care of that with his powers – he knew Dunwall’s roofs enough that he could get across the city in three blinks, do some shopping, and be back before Emily even knew he was gone.

Now, least he wanted questioning from Emily – and others – about why he was attempting to scale Dunwall tower and traverse its rooftops, he was forced to walk out through the front doors like some kind of normal citizen. And with it came all the recognition he despised.

Damn you, Delilah.

The Joplin Laboratory was a building on a street that did not fit the name it bore on aching old signage. If a passerby didn’t make the connection, they would probably never learn the truth behind it; Corvo had only been a couple of times, when Piero had been too sick to leave.

It was crammed in between the rough angles of two buildings; an ugly, half-thought-through building that opened up in the back. Corvo looked around out of habit, as if anyone would care about him walking in to the former home of an old friend. Then he pushed the door open, a shop bell chiming to let the owner know someone had come in.

The front room was narrow as the entrance, with a door and a staircase behind a dusty counter stacked high with papers and a scales. It looked more like a storage space than an entryway – _Piero would be proud_ , Corvo thought.

The door to the back room slammed open, and a frazzled woman a good foot shorter than Corvo greeted him, smiling like someone who was only pretending to be pleased to have visitors.

“Hi, sorry, we aren’t taking drop-ins at the moment, if you’d like to make an appointment – Corvo _fucking_ Attano!”

Her poorly made façade dropped completely, and she stomped up to him. Her hair was piled on her head in a haphazard approximation of a bun, which only gave her a couple extra inches and didn’t make up at all for the height difference. She jabbed her finger in his chest like he wasn’t the Royal Protector, and really, who _did_ he think he was?

“It’s been a long time since you showed your ugly mug around here! Outsider’s _fucking_ tits! Couldn’t even come by to say hello after the funeral-“

“I was busy, Ellie,” Corvo said as gently as he could, trying to push her accusing finger away. She shoved it in his face this time.

“Like the void you were! What, I’m not good enough for you once Joplin kicked the bucket?” She snorted, then as quickly as she’d approached, turned around and stomped back into the back room, slamming the door behind her.

“Ellie – “ Corvo said, and a muffled yell came through the wood.

“We’re CLOSED! No drop-ins! Unless you’re a friend! Friends come and visit once in a while, even if they are the Royal Outsider-damned Protector!”

Seeing he was getting nowhere, Corvo sighed, approaching the door and getting down on his knees to yell under the crack.

After returning to teach at the Academy of Natural Philosophy, Piero had quickly found out that it was easier to continue dabbling with the Outsider’s visions with his own private laboratory. He’d funded it himself – with Corvo’s help, as they’d been left over with some “funds” after rescuing Emily from Havelock’s plans. Corvo hadn’t minded; he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with all that coin or the accumulated goods he’d stolen. It felt wrong to keep it as a prize.

After establishing his laboratory, it became clear that Piero was in no shape to take care of it all on his own; his workspace becoming dangerously unorganized, forgetting to eat or sleep for days. It had probably hurried along his disease, before he’d hired Ellie. A young teen girl off the street, armed with a broom and the grumpy attitude of a much older woman, she had taken to her job with frightening severity and bullied Piero into making her his apprentice before he died. They had more in common than either of them wanted to let on. After he’d passed, she’d inherited the lab, and continued his work.

“I’m sorry for not visiting,” Corvo yelled through the door. He heard footsteps stomping around the room on the other side. “Really. That was my fault, Ellie. But I need your help right now – please?”

He felt a bit foolish, but he figured it was what he deserved. He had forgotten about Ellie – he’d visited Piero almost strictly for business when the man was alive, but Ellie didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She didn’t get much visitors except for the odd curious passerby and people who hid their faces out of paranoia about Overseers. He jumped away from the crack when the door opened, and looked up at Ellie’s scowling face.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry,” she muttered. “Can’t believe you wouldn’t even stop by. Really goes to show how important _Piero_ was.”

Corvo got to his feet slowly – a little shocked at how aching and _old_ his bones felt. Like they were moaning and crying out for a magic that wasn’t there. Ellie didn’t offer to help.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I need your help with something.”

“Not even a hello,” Ellie muttered. “You’re lucky I know you can pay. What is it you want, then? Nothing terrible I hope. Business has been awful after the short and sweet reign of our lovely Delilah came and went. No one wants to be seen within a mile of here. I’m going to have to start cleaning again!”

“I’m sorry,” Corvo said, feeling truly guilty. While Piero’s recognized works and students were safe in the Academy, continuing on, Ellie was left to strike out in murky waters like a lonely sailor on a cursed boat. “If you need my help, I’d be happy to pay-“

“No, you need my help, not the other way around,” Ellie pointed out. “And you best believe I’m going to bleed you for everything you’ve got. Now what is it that you’re looking for?”

“I need… an audiograph,” Corvo said.

“An audiograph? Just a normal one?”

“Of course not, I’m here, aren’t I?” Corvo said, spreading his arms. Ellie snorted. “No. I’m having trouble – I’ve been trying to record some thoughts, you know, before I lose them.”

“A good practice.”

“But I’m having trouble because someone keeps listening in on them. I need an audiograph that keeps a certain person from hearing what’s being said into it. I need a place to put my thoughts where he absolutely cannot access what’s inside them.”

“Sounds like you need a better lock on your door.”

“Locks don’t stop him,” Corvo said flatly. “And I’m afraid nothing does.”

Ellie caught him in a long, hard stare.

“I see,” she said. “So you want me – to use _his_ power – to make an audiograph he can’t listen in on? What the hell do you have to hide from him that badly?”

“Nothing world-changing,” Corvo replied. “I just want peace.”

“Then you really are asking too much,” Ellie said. “Well. This is going to be interesting.” She turned and walked quickly into the back, and Corvo, with nothing else to do, followed. “I don’t think it would serve any of us to make you something straight out of the Abbey, but maybe that would be a good place to start. Corvo, they’re not your biggest fans over there, are they?”

“Hardly,” he replied, carefully maneuvering around a stack of crates with little airholes poked into them. The crates squeaked. “They… put up with me, as they do Emily, because they have to. But I haven’t been there informally in a while.”

“Well, you might have to go,” she pushed aside a few books on the desk and took out some paper and a pencil. “You know those godawful music boxes? I need you to steal me one.”

“Excuse me?” Corvo said, looking up from the map he was examining on the wall. “Steal a music box?”

“Yes. I have an idea of what I want to do, but I can’t do it unless I have a specimen to look at,” she muttered. “God, this would’ve been so much easier if Piero were here. Stupid old man had the indecency to die right when he was getting interesting.”

“I can’t just walk in there, I’m the Royal Protector –“

“Exactly!” She said, sitting up suddenly and spinning around on her stool. “But you can break in. You have before, haven’t you?”

Corvo bit the inside of his cheek.

“That was before. If they caught me now –“

“What, you have a lot more to lose? Too bad. There’s no better person for sneaking around the Abbey than you. You’ve escaped with far more of an elusive target than an immobile, ugly music box, which I know for a fact they have hundreds of.” She shrugged. “I guess you want the Outsider to hear all your terrible, dark secrets then.”

For a moment, Corvo was almost tempted to tell her to fuck off, that the stupid audiograph wasn’t worth it anyway. He could just sit in his tower and wait for Emily to come home and let _Jessamine_ build up inside him again and –

No. He couldn’t let her build up inside him; not where the Outsider could still see her. He needed someplace to put her where he could finally be alone.

“When do you need it by?” He said, exhaustion in his voice. Ellie smiled and clapped her hands.

“Well, you haven’t given me a timeline, but the sooner the better so I can get started,” she replied.

“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week,” he said. Then he turned around, flexing his fingers and feeling how lose the skin was without the mark on his hand. “I expect a discount for this!” he called over his shoulder.

“Not on your life!” Ellie replied with as much enthusiasm, and he let the door to the lab slam shut behind him.

                                                                        ---

That night Corvo climbed out of his office window and onto one of Dunwall tower’s roofs to prove that he still could. There were still moments where his body wanted to lunge forward as if the void was there to catch him – he took a knife and drew it across the back of his hand, hoping the stinging cut would remind him that there was nothing there anymore.

The sea was peaceful in the distance and he couldn’t tell any of the boats apart, so there was no use straining to see Emily’s readying itself for departure. He shouldn’t try and watch over her like she couldn’t do it herself. She wasn’t a reluctant ruler anymore. He couldn’t walk the line between worlds for her forever.

Somewhere across the rooftops, people were singing. Every lit window twinkled as if clanking mugs with one another; every half-lit doorstep like a homeless boy waiting, listening, carefully feeding the rats underneath his feet. He’d have called it beautiful before when Jessamine was alive, but now he had other ideas about Dunwall. He’d seen too much of it to believe the sight from Dunwall tower. He wasn’t sure whose fault that was – Dunwall’s, or himself?

He didn’t know what he expected; Dunwall didn’t look any different than it usually did, and he could still feel an emptiness beside him. He wished Emily was there, still young enough to ask questions and believe he knew the answer. He wished Jessamine was there to tell him he didn’t know anything. He’d take Samuel if he could.

Sliding back down the roof and onto the window ledge was much more precarious with limbs stubbornly trying to catch up with his age. He made his way carefully to the edge, then hung down, feeling for footing before letting himself drop. He slid back in the open window and shut it, the room echoing with the sudden silence.

Corvo glanced at the untouched audiograph in the corner. It sat, smirking, like a toad. “Ribbit,” he told it, and left his office.

He hated his bedroom, but the saferoom still smelt faintly of dead Ramsey and Emily wanted to clean it and start fresh herself. His own bed was too big and too soft and he had to sleep with all the windows open so, if he was straining, he could hear the river. Some nights he’d wake up and have to blink twice before the roof of the Hount Pits’ attic would turn back into the bed canopy. It had been years and that still felt more like home than this place did; Jessamine’s bedroom a distant memory, and before that, childhood, which could only be a fairy tale. Coleridge only came in the empty nightmares – the ones where nothing happened.

He barely remembered falling asleep before he was awoken by hands on his shoulders, turning him over – a voice saying _Corvo?_ and he couldn’t tell if it was Emily’s or Jessamine’s – then he was falling, deep into the blue light that was slowly turning inky-black, and all he could think was _I shouldn’t have climbed up there_.

Then he was awake in his bed again. His bed in the Hound Pits’. He was wearing the same filthy clothes he’d worn to kill all those people. He pushed his hair out of his face and stood up.

“What do you want now?!” His voice cracked. The room groaned and dripped and sighed. He walked out to where the window should have been but all he could see was void.

“The void can be scary when you don’t know how to navigate it, isn’t that right, Corvo?” His voice came from beside Corvo’s ear, but when he turned there was nothing there. Two hands reached out from the window and pulled Corvo forward till he was leaning over the edge, looking down into the void and the Outsider, who was floating below him.

“Trust me,” the Outsider said. “Like you used to.”

Corvo pulled his wrists back but only succeeded in pulling the Outsider closer. The black-eyed bastard smiled.

“I’m too old for this,” Corvo said.

“Are you really?” the Outsider asked. “Or are you afraid of something else? You’re not running, Corvo, not really – but you’re trying to fit the pieces of your life together and they’re not coming nicely. You're looking for pieces that went missing years ago. Are you really getting old? Have you forgotten how the world changes, even when you don't want it to?”

Corvo yanked his arms back as hard as he could. The Outsider let him go, but floated gently up to sit on the windowsill, watching him. Corvo rubbed his wrists as if they’d been shackled.

“If I knew how to get you away from Emily, I would,” Corvo said.

“I don’t think she’d let you, Corvo. I had to be ripped from your grasp as well.”

“We’ve played your game. You want to see the world change, go bother someone else. We aren’t interesting anymore.”

“Oh, Corvo,” the Outsider smiled. “The most important people in your life are _empresses_. You will _always_ be interesting.”

Corvo wasn’t sure how accurate that was.

“Then why aren’t you chasing after Emily?”

The Outsider’s smile split his face. He leaned in, pushing Corvo back until he was stumbling against the wall.

“Because I like you better.”

He shoved Corvo back and the floor disappeared beneath him. Corvo landed, once again, in his bed; the sky outside was dark and full of stars, the sea met the land, and the void was gone.


End file.
